5 Years Ago
by CrimsonSkeleton
Summary: Squeal of Copying with Life and It is gonna be alright.
1. Autor Note

**Autor's Note/Disclaminer**

I do not own BBC's Sherlock. Also, please note that English writing is not my mother's tongue. I live in UK and I speaks in BSL (British Signing Language). If you see any errors, wrong spelling or inaccurate grammar, please do not hesitant to message me. I would be happy to change it and learn in new way of correct English grammar. I am still learning.

On the other note, please point it out if you finds in Sherlock and John's speaking patterns are inaccurate. Believe me, Sherlock is the harder for me to understand him. I never understand anything about police/detective stuffs. So I made him as simplified speaking pattern **.**

Thank you for your help. Enjoy this fanfiction.

 **A slightly warning**

This fanfiction will talk about Sherlock's Major depressive disorder, Borderline personality disorder (includes self-harm), Schizophrenia and Emotional disorders and John tries his best to support him and understand him as much as he can.

This fiction will affects your disorders when you read it. For example, when you read Sherlock's self-harm, you might say to yourself: "Oh, that's me!" then it gives you a sadness thought about it. This is not my responsibility to stop you there to leads yourself in this situation but I also have an responsibility to given it out a warning to you, for your life's sake. I ask you please to stop there to read it continue and have a break and think of positive, for example, listen to positive music or talk to people. I always have a break from writing because I am also depressed, so I need a time off and leave it and will continue a new story in the few weeks later or even a month. Please forgive me if it affects you when you read it.

 **Why I write this story?**

Before you ask me any questions regarding this story, I have decided to tell you why I have to write this story. Well, first I created two stories of _It is gonna be alright_ and _Copying with the Life_ , basically, it is about when John died, Sherlock has moved on and see how he was cope with it, through his distressed and depression, and in the end he has a positive future. I have not thought about Sherlock's future yet, however, I was thinking about creating a squeal story. About before John died in the Army and had a long and difficult adventure with Sherlock. This will be series of story, not completed, because I feel people have the right to know what's happened to their adventures a way before John's death. And I cannot write after John's death, through 5 years, of what's happened to Sherlock. It will be even more depressing and sadness. You will know what's happened. Just think; drugs, abuses himself, etc. So I have to dismiss this story. Believe me, it is not even a nice story either. Anyway, I thought about Sherlock and John's lives adventures. Then, I created Sherlock as gloomy characteristics and John as supportive characteristics. To me, if Sherlock were in bad situation, John would be a best figure to help him out, as a doctor. Although, when I was watching the offical BBC's Sherlock series, I could see John can be a bit irreverent when it comes to Sherlock's bad attitude. I never seen Sherlock as depressed there yet, so I would not know about John's reaction by this. I created a new character in John as supportive. Sometimes I know John can be difficult to understand Sherlock because of Sherlock's unknown disorder that I could not figure it out yet, I mean, from BBC's. So I made this story. Not just the fun, but for understanding of what it means for the serious dangerous disorders. I also study these kinds of disorders.


	2. Chapter One

That was 5 years ago just before John's death, just way before John returned to the Army.

Squeal of _Copying with the Life_ and _It is gonna be alright._

 _Chapter One - 5 YEARS AGO_

John deliberately taught Sherlock for the right attitudes. Sherlock hate how John disciplining him so strictly. But John never make so strict. He just showed for how to make it the right way. Sherlock rather to make his own way, his own 'showing off' attitudes.

John explained if Sherlock want people to look up on him, he should show friendly a bit more. Sherlock find it boring. So boring to show friendly to everyone.

Sherlock lie down on the leather sofa, with his sleepwear on, usually in blue gown, curling up himself, thinking in his Mind Place.

John was making a cup of tea for himself and Sherlock. The cup of tea for Sherlock that left a bit cold.

"Sherlock, your cup of tea is getting cold."

"Yep."

"So? Are you drinking it now or what?"

"Yes, but I am thinking."

"Thinking of what?"

"Just thinking."

Sighing, John just looked at the newspapers, reading while slipping of the cup of tea into his mouth. It gives him flesh and warm in his sore throat.

Sherlock looked up at John.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you be remains in the flat, say forever?"

This question startled John. He looked back at Sherlock directly.

"Huh? Well, of course. If you are worried about me moving out with the future wife."

"Actually, I would be lonely if you move out."

"Oh Sherlock, I would visit you when I gets married!"

"Would you?"

"Of course! Sherlock, since when you bought it up? We never talk about this before. Where all this coming from?"

Sherlock silenced, snuggles up his cushion against his cheek, looking away.

"Sherlock? Would you like to talk about it?"

"No."

"Or would you like to dare to make me more kind to you?"

"Don't." Sherlock given a eye shot at John.

"I am willing. Here I come."

"Do not you dare, John!"

"Sherlock." John sat up, walked up to him, and looked down at Sherlock's panicking eyes.

"John, please, don't." he pulled a cushion to his face, try to hiding himself.

"I am not going to pressure you, Sherlock, but I want to know what's wrong, so then I know how can help you. What's with the moving out stuff anyway?" he placed his hands on his both hips.

"Nothing, it was just a thought. It's just ... I was thinking."

"With your deduction?"

"You could say that."

"Then help me. With my deduction."

"Ok, I would be scared if you move out. I would be scared if I lose you."

"Sherlock...oh Sherlock. Haha, it's gonna be alright, Sherlock. I am not gonna leaving yet. It's too soon. And plus, I was about to getting married. So if I were get married, I will always been there for you, whatever that happens. Me and Mary will visit you in one day."

"But what if..."

"Hm?" tilted his head.

"What if you're dead?" he looked up at John's eyes, shows full of frightening.

Frozen. John left his mouth open, looked shocked. And closed his mouth, then opened it again, trying to find the words.

"Ah...uhm...well...how...well, oh well, how would you...cope with that?"

"I would die of boredom and depression."

"Ah, uhm, oh god, I never expected you ask me that. Well, uhm, Sherlock, If I were died, could you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Stop being a fault to yourself. If I were died, it just happens. You cannot change that, you know that. And don't you dare to think about of changing back to the past time with your ... uhm, experiments. It's impossible. So, please don't be so hard on yourself. You can grieve for me, because, well, uhm, it's not good feeling to keep it to yourself, like all the time. You have to let it go. You can revel your feelings to your brother, or anyone else who you think they are very useful to you. So...just...don't..."

"Hurt myself?"

Just about John say something, he muttered. "W-What? What did you say?"

"HURT. Hurt myself, John."

"In what way, Sherlock?"

Sherlock sighed deeply, he sat up, placed his both hands together in between on his knees, looking up at John. "John, sit down, please."

John did so.

"I know it's sounds stupid to you, but I am not sure how to expressing to you. So, now I try my best to explain to you. Hurt myself is a way of cutting myself. On my arms."

"S-Sher-you did this because?"

"I failed."

"On what?"

"On you."

"What?!"

Sherlock flinched by John's yelling, so he stopped talking instantaneously.

"Oh god, I am so sorry, Sherlock. I didn't mean that. I was just shocked when you said that. I mean, why did it have to do with me? What did I make hurt yourself?"

Sherlock say nothing.

With this, John sighed. So he moved a bit closer to Sherlock, looked at his eyes properly. "Sherlock, talk to me, please. I want to help you. Please."

John pushed himself to show kindness to Sherlock because John know this feeling could bring Sherlock to revel his feelings towards to John. Because Sherlock needed that. Sherlock needed a kindness and thoughtful. And also, more important is; listening.

"Ok. I felt I failed on you. Because of what's happened after the fall."

John tried to remember that fall part. "Fall?" then that hit him. "Ah, when you jumped. Sherlock, that was...long time ago. But anyway, forget about it."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because of your anger and upset bought me in shame and pain. After all this years, I failed you. I failed to explain to you why I did this. I wanted to tell you this before I took a suicide but I couldn't. Because if I did, you would be not acting as you know I am already dead. It would be so easier for snipers to know that you didn't show any heartbroken in the end of my death and you would be next dead. John, all I did this was protecting you so you would be alive."

"Yes, I know, Sherlock. Thanks for that, but this! This self-harm. This doesn't make sense."

"I did this because I felt awful to make you like this. Faking suicide affected you. When you punched me, I felt I had something wrong. I expected you said 'hello, it was lovely to see you again', but it turned out you just punched right of my face."

"..." John left speechless.

"With this feelings of yours has left me confused. So I was trying to deduce it. To understand it why did you do that to me. But I never get it. I was so failing to understand this feelings. I might be a machine, but I am still a human, John. Perhaps, I never have an experience with such things like this. Your anger. My faking suicide. To connect this, I felt I made you upset, and it left me to blame myself. I had to self-harm myself. To see if I have any pain like you had when you see me pretends to be dead, or see me alive again. When I slashed it on my arm, I could feel a tiny bit sore. It was weird."

John wanted to protest it, but have to listen Sherlock first when he finished, then John will say something. So John nodded.

Sherlock looked at John. "I failed to make this unity again, John, after I returned back from the death."

John quickly took Sherlock's hand, closed his eyes to try not to cry, just slightly sniffed.

Sherlock looked at him, puzzled.

"Did I make you upset? Now I am feeling bad."

"No, Sherlock, stop it! Stop this now!"

"What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing! You hurt yourself because of me! Now I feel so bad! Just like you! Because I never realized you expect me to be happy to see you! God, Sherlock! You know what was it feeling like when you appeared when I was about to purpose Mary. At first, I thought you were dead! You left me grieve for you! I visited your grave for many times! Because Sherlock, I missed you! It was like so lost without you! I thought I never have a friend like you anymore!"

"R-Right...now I understand it...well, slowly. Continue."

John growled.

"John?"

"UNDERSTAND IT?!" John yelled and sat up quickly and walked to the kitchen.

Sherlock just dumb there, blinked. "John?"

John let out of sobbing.

Sherlock sat up, walked to John in the kitchen. "John? I am so sorry to make you upset. Yes, I understand it. You thought I left you so much in grief because you thought I was playing a game with you. To see you cry in my grave, for the fun. John, everything you thought about me when I returned was not true. I wanted to appear to you just after my death because I could not see you upset anymore. You were crying all the time. I tried to do the same to you. To cry with you. To say I am sorry. To say I am so stupid. To say I am a bad friend. But all I did was protecting you. I thought you understood this. But now you just hate me for it."

John sobbed, plicking his bridge of the nose with his fingers, sighing. Sniffing, he blinked his teary eyes and turned and looked at Sherlock. "I know, Sherlock. I know, but I couldn't hate you for that. I couldn't. I just upset because it was 2 years. 2 years was a longer to be waiting for you to return. 2 years made me think you are already dead. Just dead. Nothing gonna be happens if you returns again."

"I know. I am sorry."

"You always saying sorry, Sherlock. I already forgive you. It is forgotten now. But now, your self-harm." walked up to Sherlock, eyes looking at Sherlock's eyes. "Shall I clean them up for you?"

Sherlock muttered and blinked. "So, you don't mind? You don't hate me for this?"

John shorted. "I am a doctor and a good friend. What's more can I do?"

"Yes, but this self-harm can make you feeling horrible if these stays dry."

"I don't care. This cuts are yours, your skin, your body. I cannot take it off. These scars might reminds you of something that you wish of what you have done in long time ago, but today you will remember it as I forgave you. "

Sherlock smiled. "Thanks. I shall remember it as a sign as for your forgiveness."

John went to the bathroom to find the first aid kit. Sherlock stood in the same place in the kitchen, put a hand around his back neck, rubbing it. He given it out a grunt, sighing, let a hand out of his neck, looking around. When John arrived with the first aid kit, Sherlock looked back at him, smiling with the welcome back. John knew that sign very well.

"Ok, Sherlock. I want you please to sit down and allow me to dressing your arms. It might be a bit sore when I sponge the cuts with the special liquid for stop bleeding or also to create a new skin to cover it, but I know you will be bear with it. Now, sit down please."

The tall figure walked up to the armchair and sit down, patience for John to finding the right dressing for him.

John came over to Sherlock, with the dressing and special liquid and a small yellow sponge. He sprayed a liquid onto the sponge, squeeze it and gently placed on the raven-haired's arm. Sherlock gritted his teeth, whining lightly.

"Sorry, it is going to be a bit hurt. But soon it will go away."

John gently tapped a sponge on each of Sherlock's flesh cuts, to clean the small bleeding away and at same time the dry cuts. When John finished with that, he placed a long dressing pad and wrapped around it with the flesh banagae. When he done with that, he did another one arm as well. Same thing when Sherlock let a painful whine as John placed a sponge on another arm. After he finished with that, John put things away to the bin provided. He returned to Sherlock and sat on edge of armchair, crossed his arms and looked down at Sherlock.

"Feeling better now?"

"Yes, thank you. And thank you for not walk away when I told you this."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because sometimes you always do that."

"Not when you had a bad attitude."

"What is the difference between with my problems and my cold attitude?"

"Heh, your cold attitude made me fed up so I had to left because I needed a peace, from you. But when you have or had a problem, I couldn't leave you like this."

"Oh. Besides my cold attitude, you couldn't stand with the objects in the fridges."

"Oh, god! That is disgusting! I wish you shouldn't put those there!"

"Shall I clean them away?"

"Huh? Uhm, that's would be great if you do that."

"Because I didn't want to see you to think of me weird."

"Ah, well, I thought you were weird at the first place but then I realized it was only for your experiments. You are not weird at all. You just a strange one sometimes. Mad scientist. But I couldn't stop you there, because it's your hobby."

"Not as hobby as my own Mind Place."

"Ah, thinking is your hobby? Interesting."

"Yep. John, thank you for everything. So what would you like to do?"

John blinked at this. "Sherlock? You never asked me this before."

"Well?"

"Ah, uhm, dunno. What would you like to do?"

"I would be tempted to go back on my experiments but you hate to see the limbs in the fridges, so..."

"How about Boys Night Out?"

"What's that?"

"Its...it's for the boys who hang out together for the night out. Like drinking, or dancing, or whatever."

"Dancing? How do you dance in the night out?"

"In, uh, the pub?"

"Oh, where people having a fun, drinking, screaming, laughing and smashing people's heads with the glasses. Sounds dull. Shame. Not my thing."

Snorted in giggles. "So, Sherlock, what exactly would you like to do?"

"You asked me like third time. You don't have to be repeat and I don't have a faintest clue. What did you do when you go on the Boys Night Out?"

"Uh. . . in the pub."

"Ohhhh! Ok, pub then. Let's go."

"Ok, but I would look out for you, just in case."

"Huh? Why?"

"Well, you can't trust people there. They were like the shark to catch the prey."

"Hmm. I would be curious to see that."

"Uhm, ok, let's change a plan. Not good idea to bring you in the pub. How about a Sleepover?"

"Sleepover?"

"Don't tell me you don't know what is it."

"Something you sleep over on the bed?"

"No. Sleepover is where you spend the night at a friend's house or flat."

"Oh. But you sleep upstairs." Sherlock pointed his finger up.

"Yes, and I sleepover here, which means I sleep here."

"Oh, right so you can sleep on my bed and I sleep on the sofa."

"No Sherlock."

"Huh?"

"First of all, it has absolutely nothing to do with any sexual activities, Sherlock. It can be sharing with the bed. We can watch TV together. Or order a takeaway Pizza and eat together. Talk each other. Pillows fight. Something that we can do something crazy as the teenage."

"Ah. Ok...so, what do you want to do now?"

"Now this is gonna be a long night to ask this same questions."

"Sorry, I am not really good at this 'friend-zones' things."

"Ok, how about start with the game then? Like Truth or Dare?"

"Oh, sounds quite fun. Ok, you first."

"Truth or dare?"

"Hmm. I start with the dare."

John raised his both eyebrows in surprised. "Really? Ok, I dare you to...go downstairs and tell Mrs Hudson that how much you appreciated her caring and look after us, mostly you."

"What? Isn't this kind of joke game?"

"Nope, Sherlock, this is serious game. Now go, or I will stay here until you have to complete this game."

Sherlock groaned so he had go downstairs and knocked on Mrs Hudson's door.

In the few minutes, John heard nothing downstairs, no screaming or yelling, nothing. _I hope Sherlock would do nothing weird. Or perhaps he pretends to knocks on the door and say hi quickly to her and just wait, do nothing and maybe come up with the fake dare._

The footsteps has disturbing his thought. Sherlock has returned and sat down in the front of John.

"Well? Oh..."

John chuckled when he noticed a lipstick mark on Sherlock's lips' side.

"I take it pretty well?"

"Yep, I don't know why but she looked so pleased to hear me this and gave me all this kissing stuffs on me."

John smiled. "Glad to hear that. Now your turn."

"Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"Ah, hmm...John, you know me that I know you very well. But is it true that you don't hate me?"

"Huh? Of course I don't hate you! You are my friend!"

"Ok, second question; you don't hate me if I were self-harm myself?"

John sighed deeply, arms crossed tightly, looked up then looked down on the floor, smirking. "Sherlock, like I said before, it's your body. Whatever it comes to your mind, and you feel you want to do this to clear this awful thoughts away, you feel you cannot control yourself and you want to cut your skin to distract your negative thinking. When you feel the pain, you feel much better. I know it's sounds weird. It's like an opposite from the people who have so soft with the pain, they can be screaming or crying. But for you, you feel strong. You are fine now, right?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Then there you go. I can't stop you there. You just wanted to. You might think if I let you do this, but, Sherlock, when I heard you said you had self-harm yourself, and you know how I feel about this? Awful. Because self-harm is absolutely no good. You do know that, don't you? But, I know this can help you to think something else, like push aside on the negative thinking. I never have an experience this before, but I have a bad shot on my shoulder, that's different. This doesn't affected me when I had it, it does reminds me of something , but it's just a small mark, nothing serious. Your is worse. You got so far, more marks than me. But to me, your marks are beauty. It's just the skin."

"Ok...you are too nice, John."

"Wanna hear more?"

"Oh god, no, no more. That's enough. Your kindness is too far to take in for me. It's just...when I see this scars,...I feel I enjoy it...you know?"

"You. Are. Just. A. Mad. Scientist, Sherlock. Nothing more." with a smile.

"I might be or not might be. But I am so glad that you accepted me."

"Sherlock, I am your friend, don't forget that. And don't make me kiss your scars for make me sorry for you."

"Oh. That's would be necessary for that."

John raised an eyebrow. "Say it again?"

"I mean, it is no need for that. I'm fine, thank you."

"Unless...?"

"Unless if I ask you to."

"Oh Sherlock!" bursts out a laughter. "I was just a kidding!"

Sherlock blinked, surprised. "Oh. I thought you were serious."

"No."

"How about now?"

"Huh? I'm serious."

Sherlock pulled a sheelve up and drop arm at John, waiting for him to kiss it. "My scars are needed to be kissed. Just a quick one."

John blushed lightly and chuckled nervously. "Sherlock...Sherlock, I-I am joking. I mean, they are alright now, right?"

"No. They are sore."

John gritted his teeth, speaks thorough it. "Sherlock..."

"They are necessary to be changed. It looks old."

"SHERLOCK. YOU NEVER CHANGED!"

"But, I'm hurt, and I am starting to think of another one to cut on."

"Oh, no! DON'T YOU EVER THINK ABOUT THAT!" John yelled, with an anger face. Now this is showing the true of his emoticons.

"Ah, now this is truth."

John calmed down a bit. "Huh?" a confused.

"You said it's my body and do whatever I want. And now you are against it."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, it's just I hate it. I hate how to hear every time you want to cut yourself."

"Then help me."

"How?"

"How? You are a doctor, for god's sake!"

"I am, but I have no patients who have this self-harms before!"

"Then I will be your first patient with a self-harm. What would you do now with it?"

"I-I. . . I am not sure, Sherlock."

Sherlock sat up, walked to his bedroom, and locked his door behind.

"Oh, Sherlock. . . ." John placed a hand over on his face, yelled in shame.

Just for about 15 minute, John decided to check up on Sherlock. He walked to Sherlock's bedroom door and knocked on it twice.

"Sherlock?"

No response.

"Sherlock?" he knocked it again, twice. "Sherlock?"

 _Everything seems silence, like no one is there. What's going on here?_

"Oh, god, don't tell me. . . ."

 _Don't tell me that Sherlock is thinking about . . . ._

"SHERLOCK!" he yelled. John's left shoulder give a strong bang againist the door, to try to break the lockpins. "Sherlock! Are you there?!" he kicked a doorknob, now the door left open with just one shot. His Army training taught him of how to a good kick against the door, even it was locked. He had been training for it.

"Sherlock!"

When the door was busted open, John saw a figure lying on the bed, unmovement.

"Sherlock?"


	3. Chapter Two

_Chapter 2 - Understanding_

"Sherlock!" the name echoed through the dark screen, the heart beating motion through the air, looking pale as he saw his best friend lying on the bed, his eyes stared at the bleeding _drip drip drip drip drip_ on the floor.

"No. . . " his voice timed, breathing shakily. "No Sherlock, no. . .I - - I am sorry. . . "

Sniffed with an sob, blaming himself for not stop him to do something like this, his head looked down, eyes shut tight, his mind was spinning all around, around around like a go-merry-round ride, trying to figure for how to sort this suituion.

First, he have to straight up, pretends look like he know what to do, the eyes of his examined around the room, searching for the clues. John may not be a great detective as Sherlock was, but he given in a shot. When Sherlock was unconscious, what would John do? Detective and obvession. John's eyes are something to good at, as well as can see far away. Not prefect as Sherlock who caught by the eyes so quickly before John and know what this for and know where is come from and know what is it lead to. John tried to do that. To connect with the clues altogether. But this Sherlock incident might take a while because. . .it's part of Sherlock's illness that John do not understand.

John could see Sherlock's right hand held something. He walked up to him by the side of the bed mattress. There were some blood on the sliver object. John slowly opened Sherlock's fingers to let go of the bloody object. Picked it up. It appeared a sharp blaze knife. What would Sherlock do with this? To connect this, John looked carefully on the bleeding arm on the left side. It appeared it has some flesh bleeding slashes on the arm. It seems Sherlock has used this knife to cut his arm for out of depression. Speaking of the depression, John has remembered something.

 _Flashback_

 _"Ah, now this is truth."_

 _John calmed down a bit. "Huh?" a confused._

 _"You said it's my body and do whatever I want. And now you are against it."_

 _"I'm sorry, Sherlock, it's just I hate it. I hate how to hear every time you want to cut yourself."_

 _"Then help me."_

 _"How?"_

 _"How? You are a doctor, for god's sake!"_

 _"I am, but I have no patients who have this self-harms before!"_

 _"Then I will be your first patient with a self-harm. What would you do now with it?"_

 _"I-I. . . I am not sure, Sherlock."_

 _Sherlock sat up, walked to his bedroom, and locked his door behind._

Was Sherlock did this on the purpose for make me realize for how to help him when he had self-harm? Or was he showed a deep emoticon and deep sadness that I didn't help him?

John tried to figure out to answer these questions of Sherlock's problem. Depression is a harder part of understanding. His experience with the patients who are depressed have less, less, less to help with. He never done this before. Not even just once. Sherlock was the first person who slowly make him realize about what is true depression is.

John desperately wanted to ask Sherlock for more to understanding about depression, but he realized that Sherlock was already on the edge.

Now what John had to do?

"What can I do? What can I do?" John questioned himself when he stood besides Sherlock's bed, grabbed his head with his both hands, thinking of how to fix this problem.

"Right, I go clean this up then wrap up with the bandage and then when he will wake up, hopefully, I will ask him some questions. But not in. . .pressure way."

John went to get the First Aid box in the kitchen that left there before when Sherlock was healed by the first wounds. Collected the First Aid box, John rushed back to the bedroom and fixed Sherlock with the cleansing wounds. When it was done, John put everything away on the First Aid box. He stood up and slowly turned Sherlock around on the bed so Sherlock can sleep on the back and pulled the pillow under Sherlock's back neck to help him to be comfortable. John picked a box up and took it back to the original storage in the bathroom.

He then went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Opening the fridge, picked a milk, poured it in the cup, placed it on the counter, stirred it with the spoon then took the milk back to the fridge and stirred again and took the teabag out and threw it away to the bin provided and took a cup of tea with him to the bedroom. Slipping into his mouth while he walking to the bedroom, looking at the peaceful face against on the white pillow. John placed a hand into the pocket while the other hand held a cup of tea, slipping it into his mouth.

In the few hours ago, John crossed his arms, head down with the eyes closed, sleepy on the floor, his back lead against on the wall, next to the door. Then the shadowy figure appeared to him, kneel before John. Its hand reached for John's cheek, its thumb stroked it gently. Its voice came out: "John?"

John twitched his eyebrows and moved his face slightly. Blinking his eyes, yawning and rubbed his eyes. Nearly jumped as he felt a cold hand against his cheek. Eyes shot at the hand to the shadowy figure. "Sherlock?"

The mental illness figure smiled at John. "Hello, John."

John blinked. Fourth time. Ok, this was very strange going on here around with Sherlock. Sherlock seems to John that Sherlock pretends that his smile means something that everything is gonna just be fine.

 _Really, Sherlock? Really?_

"Sherlock? I-" he whimpered, confused. "Sherlock, I thought- you, . . . you were supposed be relaxing! Uh. . . .I mean, uh. . . .how. . .how are you?"

"I already did. I slept in few hours, that's all. I feel fine, John."

"No, you are not."

Sherlock's smile slowly faded away into frown. "What?"

"You think it's gonna be ok? No, it's not! You gave me a fright, Sherlock! I thought you were dead!"

"Ah, that. Apparently, I was supposed be dead. But a cutting left a bunch of blood cells that didn't leave me dying, it just made me unconious."

John gritted his teeth. "Sherlock. . ."

"Yes?"

"You wish to be dead? Do you?"

"Why not? Nobody likes me."

"WHO DO YOU THINK OF THAT?!"

"Anger, John. Anger."

"I don't care! You are just thinking about killing yourself is part of your solution, but it's not! The solution is me, myself and I as a doctor!"

"Then help me."

"You. . . .ahh. . .! What would you thinking, Sherlock! You wanted to make me realize of what of depression. I tried. I tried for my best to understand it! All doctors have the different understandings and different levels of the studying. Me, I am just a doctor who heals people, or tells them what to do when they are in bad condition."

"What about me?" Sherlock asked. "What must I do?"

"Maybe I should research this. I don't know how yet. This is so new for me."

"I feel I wanted to some more."

"Sherlock!"

"What?!"

"That!" he pointed Sherlock's face with the finger. "That attitude! What the hell is that!?"

"Huh? I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me. Sometimes I don't understand myself."

"Sounds like you have a bi-polar."

"What's that?"

"It's like something to do with your emotions mixtures in different times. Like, you are depressed, hurt yourself and then later you suddenly changed the emoticon to be happy, like nothing happened. That's bi-polar. That disorder is very difficult to cope with."

"I take you couldn't cope with me?" Sherlock puzzled.

"Oh, Sherlock. You are my friend. I cannot leave you. It's just I needed a break. But you are more important than myself. I tried to understand it. Now tell me, how are you feeling now?"

"Confused."

"Why? Give it a bit more specific, please."

"That, you couldn't cope with me."

"Oh. . . .well, now this is difficult to understand you. Well, yes, it's because you have a problem."

"You could say I am living in an isolated world."

"Yes, that you don't have friends."

"Yes, and I have an low self esteem, high IQ and a criminal mastermind."

"Go on."

"You know what, forget it. Talking about this is getting boring."

"Eh? Sherlock, you are getting there now. I'm listening. I'm getting closer to it now. Don't think this is your fault. Just think I am care about you."

"Caring is not an advantage, you know that, John."

"That's to you, but I do care. Sit down. Please. Or I swear by God I will force you to sit down."

"Ohh, playing as solider, sounds rather fun." with a smirk.

John showed him a serious face, without showing a mercy.

"Uh. . . okay." Sherlock sat down on the bed quickly, without protesting.

John pulled a swing chair towards the back of the bed, and sat on in, attached both hands together in between of the knees and looked at Sherlock directly. "So Sherlock, tell me, as your doctor, why are you feeling so negative?"

Sherlock shrugged. "That's just me. I am always like that. Everyone calling me a freak. I guess that's how it does."

"That's doesn't make sense, Sherlock. You are always changeable from the emoticons. Well, I know you are not human, but to see by your emoticons, you are actually human. Which it's. . . good. It's really good. It helps me to see it. It helps people to know how you feel. If you don't, then how can we help you with that? You understand?"

"Nope. But anyway, you might go do whatever you were doing before. Just . . . leave me be."

John sighed in frustration. "Fine. This time I will leave you. But don't try to . . . you know. What's happened today."

"That was when you didn't help me."

It clicked in his mind. "That's it! You think it's because I didn't help you so it made you so depressed."

"Well, could be. But it's not the point."

"What do you mean?! Just explain, Sherlock! You are very clever man!"

"Sometimes being clever could improves my depression, but I realized it was not true. Being clever is like showing off. Showing off around people who you are so clever. So clever like the Queen's Royal Adisveal. I am not sure if I were really depressed or just pretends of that. Why didn't I cut myself, John? I don't understand myself!"

"Hmm. Perhaps you hate yourself?"

"That's not the reason."

"Or because it has to do with me?"

"Nope, not you."

"Uh. . . Mycroft?"

"Hmm. . . .maybe?"

"Ok, let's start with Mycroft. What have he done to you?"

"Oh, Mycroft. He's just a wealthy government who can take over the England. He thinks he is better than anyone else. Care about power and money. He is watching me like a eagle, ensure I do not do anything stupid. Sadly, I already did. With these! I am already stupid. Mycroft is using me for helping him through his government work. With my cleverness. I am like a slave to him. I do not want to be involved with his dirty work. I enjoy myself to be in crime scenes. But with him? I would be depressed."

 _Ding. There's an answer, Sherlock._

"Your first reason to be depressed; Mycroft. I am sorry about that, Sherlock."

"Don't be. It's just Mycroft being Mycroft. He called me a child. Because of my behaviour."

"I am sure he have the reason to call you that. You may be a child, but a child needs a disciplining father."

"Oh please! Don't treat me like a child, John!"

"I-I am sorry, I am trying to help you!"

"Calling me a child isn't helping!" Sherlock whined and reached for the knife and looked at it.

John sighed and placed a hand onto his face.

 _Now how can I comfort Sherlock?_


	4. Chapter Three

_Chapter 3 - Painful Emoticonal_

The raven haired stared at the sliver sharp object into his hand, waiting for John's quick act for it. However, John couldn't stop him. It was all because John never understand one thing was; _depression_ and _bi-polar_. John knew Sherlock was also suffering the Eating Disbor, but now Sherlock could eat, well, very slowly. It was because John was there to support Sherlock. Sherlock couldn't do without John. Without John, Sherlock would be lost and hopeless.

Suffering many things that made John confused and tried to solve this problems. But he may be a doctor, on the other hand, it didn't mean that John can be know everything about all problems. John was just an _Army Doctor._ Well, he was an Army Solider, but yet he elected to be a Army Doctor. Which means whenever the solider men were suffering and in pain, John could lead a helping hand. All John did was just stop the bleeding and stitching the limps attracted together. John never have the experiences with the men who suffering from the depression or anixtey or bi-polar, you name it. John never realized himself have also suffering from this because he was in the _army._ The army experiences was such an painful emoticonal in his life because John lost all his teams in there. He blamed himself for not saving them all. John was almost get killed but survived with the limp leg and shot on the shoulder. John thought he could manage with this after the army, still, he was wrong. The darkest times still be along with him for years. He was living in isolated world, just like Sherlock Holmes. Nevertheless, both were totally different. John was an Army Solider and Sherlock was a scientist or a philosopher. Now John was a doctor and Sherlock was a detective. Neither of them have the same problems in the past.

John couldn't bear to think about his dark past, all he have to think about was Sherlock. His best friend. He couldn't bear to see Sherlock suffering in pain. Just like he saw his men suffered in slowly death. The blogger ached his pain heart to think about it. His mind was like screaming for make it stop. The pictures of his mind wouldn't let it fade away. Seeing Sherlock was already affected him to think about it. All because was Sherlock was only John had left as a friend. John couldn't lost him. Not ever again. John was yearning to help his best friend. John felt he couldn't help him very well. He felt he would let Sherlock go end of his life. For the sake of Sherlock wanted to die.

John felt he had to give up. There were nothing he could do. So, John sighed sorrowfully, closed his eyes, and placed his both hands on his both cheeks, rubbed them distressingly.

Sherlock looked at him principally, "John?" his voice sounded propensity.

John looked up at Sherlock. "Yes?" His hazel eyes showed exasperate.

"Did I make you upset? You looked beat."

"Well. . ." John sighed in a huff. "I feel I couldn't help you with it. I just don't understand how to solve your problem. I just. . . think about my unfortunate past. I couldn't save my men. They were resting in peace. I couldn't lose you either. But,. . . it's your choice. If you feel you wished to die, go for it. I tried to understand you, but I never have the experiences with the people who suffered in depression. I. . . " John tried to control his emoticons, the moisture came out of his eyes. His voice was uncertainty shaking, sobs in between. "I am scared, Sherlock. I am scared of losing you. Who would solve this amazing deductions? Who would be show off to everyone that you know every single of the crime scenes? How every I write a blog even though you weren't there anymore? I would stop writing, Sherlock. I am scared." He burst his sobbing out of all mighty.

Sherlock. This Sherlock looked blank. Blinked. Twice. Puzzled. Opened mouth. Closed mouth. Wasn't sure of what John meant of this. Sherlock may be a machine who didn't understand of the emoticons. On the other hand, this John's feelings seems drawing Sherlock's emoticons. Seeing John's sobbing made Sherlock something feels something strange. His eyes displayed a full of dazzling. He wasn't sure how he feel right now. Would he cry for John? Would he show pity for John? Would he show guilty for John?

"J-John. . ." now Sherlock's voice suddenly wobbly. Sherlock froze of what he did hear his own voice. What was wrong with him? What was happened to him? Did he shakes with the emoticons? Did he showed painful emotional? Yes, that was a reason. John's feelings finally hit Sherlock.

"J-J-John. . ." Sherlock's eyes poured out of water into his reddish cheeks. His mouth was muggy when he was trying to speak. "J-John. . . I. . . " he whined and cried in between.

John noticed Sherlock's emotional feelings came out. John couldn't be bothered to be surprised or confused by this. All he wanted was hug Sherlock. "Sherlock. . ." John felt urge to hug him because he couldn't leave Sherlock crying by himself. All he needed was comfort. So, John leaded himself into hug Sherlock. Sherlock flinched by this. Sherlock wanted to shun John's comfort and affection, nonetheless, Sherlock needed this. Extraordinarily.

"John!" Sherlock screamed, dropped the sharp object on the floor and attacked John's arms with his unsteady fingers. "P-Please, get off me!"

John knew Sherlock's bi-polar behaviour wouldn't get it with this. John knew Sherlock didn't mean it. It was because he knew Sherlock needed this, but inside Sherlock _wanted_ to get out of John's affection. Sherlock was very confused.

John kissed Sherlock's forehead without thinking. Sherlock blinked in frozen. Sherlock looked upon John. "J. . .John?"

John sighed unwindly, gently rubbed Sherlock's back. "You're gonna be just fine, Sherlock. I'm here. I'm here. It's gonna be alright."

 _There. It's gonna be alright. It calmed Sherlock down._

Sherlock allowed his own energy to get weaken and relaxed into John's loving arms, sleeping peacefully. "Thank you, John." he smiled. His mind has shutted out.

John shushed Sherlock and hummed peacefully, rocking him like a baby, gently patted his back while his other hand stroked Sherlock's soft obsidian hair.

On the following day, John and Sherlock were sleeping into Sherlock's bedroom. John still held Sherlock into his arms. Sherlock looked like a sleeping baby, fingers gripped John's t-shirt, his side face lied on John's chest, listening to his soft heartbeat. The bright yellow shined through in between of the white blinds, spread through John's side of the face. John winced by this warmth feeling againist his face. He gently squeezed Sherlock and realized it wasn't the pillows. He felt something hard. Sherlock was already on John's chest. John opened his eyes immediately and looked at sleeping Sherlock. John chuckled softly.

 _You looks so adorable. I'm glad you calmed down for now._

John gently placed Sherlock onto his own messy bed, and placed the white sheet onto Sherlock's top of the chest. The doctor stroked the detective's hair for once more, smiled at him and kissed on his forehead. _Please don't leave me hanging of it, Sherlock. Please talk to me some more of your problems._

The tears fall into John's eyes. Pressed his own forehead against Sherlock's forehead, squeezed his eyes tightly to prevent his water tears falling down to his cheeks, sniffed. John stood up, sighed softly, wiped his tears away with his arm and walked out of the bedroom. Slowly closed the door behind him. He placed his back head onto the back door. He tried to think of what to do now. Yes, John was scared for Sherlock. He felt painful emotional for Sherlock. Ah, it was hurt, was it? So hurt to learned about his best friend had been through this, this horrible illness. John wanted to support Sherlock. He wanted to protect him from his dark time. But, John, he was only imperfect man who couldn't stop everything from the dangerous illnesses. It was just happened. People had the choices. They had the choices for the life or the death. Sherlock chose a death. John chose a life. It was painful for John to think about Sherlock made a choice for the death. If he made a right decision, then John would let him go. He knew Sherlock had already faking his first suicide in the past, but this time this was serious. Perhaps Sherlock's first fake suicide protected John and the others. But fake or real suicides affected people so much suffering.

John smiled at one wonderful memory was that when they were first met. John thought Sherlock was very strange one, however, at the time go on, John developed very strong friendships with Sherlock. John and Sherlock had the similar situations. Both were living alone, no friends and had no relationships. Well, for John, he had previously girlfriends, but things wasn't went well. John winced when people believed that John and Sherlock were the couples. They were not really the couples. They were just closest friends who supported each other.

Heretofore John walked away from the door, Sherlock called out. "John?" he called out. John stopped in between of the bedroom and the kitchen. _Since when you woke up so quickly when I just about to make the breakfast?_ "Yes, Sherlock?" John walked back to bedroom and saw Sherlock sat on the bed.

Sherlock looked back at John, smiled. "Good morning, John. There you are."

John blinked at this. _There you are? What? You thought I left you, Sherlock? Seriously? God._ John shook his head to distract his thought, "Uh, good morning, Sherlock. Hope you slept well. I go making the breakfast now. So you want the toast with the butter and the jam, yeah?"

The ebony haired smiled at him and nodded. "Yes please."

 _Yes please? Where is that coming from?_

John acknowledged Sherlock's acceptable nod. He walked to the kitchen and made some breakfast for Sherlock. _Hope Sherlock don't think I am not there to help him._

But it didn't. The amazing was Sherlock stopped hurting himself. He just walked to the living room, all dressed up. Looked smart and clean. John's eyes followed Sherlock's. He sat down on the armchair and picked a newspaper up to read it. John couldn't believe of what he did see. Sherlock looked well. But how? Ah, well, never mind. John had to do something for the breakfast now, so he shook his head and looked at the toaster, waiting for the breads finished.

 _I really hope today is gonna be well for Sherlock._


End file.
